


Right Between The Gutter And The Stars

by lakemonsters



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Ristorante Paradiso
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakemonsters/pseuds/lakemonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think you should take over before Luciano loses it." Mukuro's just come from the service area and into the kitchen of the Casetta, he's as calm as ever but his eyes are a bit worried, focused on Claudio. Mukuro sets down the tray he is holding and walks to his favorite nook - with that small window welcoming the light, despite the endless rainy days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Right Between The Gutter And The Stars

"I think you should take over before Luciano loses it." Mukuro's just come from the service area and into the kitchen of the Casetta, he's as calm as ever but his eyes are a bit worried, focused on Claudio. Mukuro sets down the tray he is holding and walks to his favorite nook - with that small window welcoming the light, despite the endless rainy days. 

Claudio despite his shyness is all business when it comes to his work at the Casetta. He gives Mukuro a lingering look and a small smile before collecting himself and excusing himself.

"Why what's the matter?" Furio asks Mukuro, offering a cup of coffee as bribe.

Mukuro takes it without hesitating and shakes his head, "Very demanding customer. I think he's drunk."

"A he?" Teo chimes in, quite surprised that there is a male customer at this hour.

"Yeah. One of those eccentrics. Probably from Milan." Mukuro says though he knows he shouldn't talk being that he's more of an eccentric himself. He polishes off his coffee and moves to go outside for his usual five-minute smoke.

 

*

"Are you trying to kill me with bitterness?! I wanted an espresso not gun powder." The man looked like someone who had just walked out of a fantasy movie set. Long silver hair, blemish-free white skin, gray eyes and pale lips. Thin as rake and angry as a shark. He rounded on Luciano and fired sharp words at him relentlessly. 

Not one to take shit from anyone - Luciano was about to answer back when a gentle hand on his forearm stopped him. "Signore, we apologize..." Claudio's calm voice seemed to have cut right through the tension and the atmosphere slowly eased up. 

Claudio offered to replace the cup of coffee with a sweeter blend. He excused himself while Luciano collected the old cup and saucer. He tried to avoid eye contact but he felt the customer's eyes on him. It didn't feel like it was personal, it just felt like the customer was angry in general.

No more words were said between them as Luciano made his way to the kitchen.

 

*

 

"My Claudio is such a hero!" Mukuro intentionally made his voice shrill and pretended to jump up and down behind the capo camariere, though, with Mukuro's height it all seemed awkward. Furio laughed at this, while Teo sighed. Gigi continued to eat the left over dolce and Luciano ignored them all. 

He wasn't really thinking about that customer anymore, but the mood had been set for the day and he just wanted to get home and relax. "I'm leaving."

"You are not going to the Enoteca with us?" Mukuro asks.

Luciano looks straight at him and tells him -no- ignoring Claudio's pleas with his eyes for the older waiter to come. "Oh for crying out loud Claudio he is not going to eat you." He gives Mukuro a dagger look before turning to leave.

"And the rain continues..." 

Luciano tells himself as he makes his way down the backstreet, a shortcut he takes home. But he stops at a the entry of a tucked-away alley as he passes and stares intently at the slumped figure sitting there - drenched and quite broken. He cannot ignore nor forget the long silver hair, it stood out like slates of steel in this rain. 

He sighs and closes his umbrella so he can fit in the small space.

"What do you want?" The man does not look up as he says this.

"I just wanted to say that it's not the coffee's fault." Luciano says.

"What?! The fuck are you talking about?"

"Earlier. It's not the coffee's fault. Nothing will taste right if you're like -this-" Luciano doesn't really understand himself, why he stood there waiting for an answer. But it took a few moments for him to realize that the other man couldn't as he had passed out.

The cold takes no prisoners and Luciano suffers for it - he takes off his coat and drapes it on the other man's shoulders.

 

*

They are half-way up the stairs to Luciano's apartment when Squalo opens his eyes and defensively pushes at the man helping him to move about. Luciano is wet, cold, cranky so he just watches him topple over and slide two steps down.

"The hell!?"

"I only wanted to help. You are free to go if you want."

"Fucking pervert."

"Ingrate." Luciano says calmly, staring him down.

This is when the other man realizes that he's not as cold as he should be, that there is a coat around his shoulders and Luciano is the one soaked and shivering. The other man quickly takes off the coat and throws it at Luciano. 

"Here. I never asked for it."

Luciano catches the coat easily and agrees with him "You're right. You never did. It just seemed right to offer help when it looks like someone needs it."

"I don't need it!"

"Then don't sit in cold dark alleys and don't cause a scene in my apartment building." Shaking his head Luciano just gives up. He's cold, he's not about to die of pneumonia for some crazy eccentric who's probably lost his mind. He walks up to his floor.

"Voi! Where are you going?!"

"Are you an idiot?" Luciano says without stopping. "That's not my concern. You're well enough to shout and throw vindictive at people, you're well enough to find shelter." 

 

*

 

Just like their first meeting - they part ways bitterly. 

Luciano's dried himself off and is about to enjoy a hot cup of coffee when his doorbell sounds off. It's quite loud and scandalous. He's thankful that Franci is not staying over tonight. From the counter, in front of the folded Wednesday paper - Luciano glares at the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me." Ah, that voice. The same crazy man of today.

"Go away."

The doorbell sounds off again and this time more insistent. Luciano is stubborn, though not stubborn enough to get in trouble with his landlord. Standing up he walks and opens the door a bit, not releasing the chain. "I said go away."

"I have nowhere to go." 

It was an obvious lie. The man was wearing a very expensive suit, partnered with pricey accessories. He ordered a pricey lunch and even paid for the untouched cup of espresso - all in cash. 

"Not only are you rude. You are a liar." Luciano narrowed his eyes.

But the man surprised him by also standing to his full height and throwing his weight against the door. It was not enough to open it fully, but enough to grab Luciano's attention. "I am not rude!"

"Then what are you? Huh?"

Luciano's about to say more when he feels ice cold fingers sneak between the door to touch his hand. Though tempted to slam the door on them - he also felt sorry for someone who had nowhere to go on such a terrible night. 

"Please..."

Their eyes meet, faces separated by mere inches.

 

*

 

"My name is Squalo. Superbi Squalo." 

"De Luca. Luciano."

Their first introduction - though they aren't looking at one another: Squalo is seated at the dining table; already in dry and warm clothing. Luciano's just come out of the laundry room - the quiet humming of the machine filters through as it does its best to return Squalo's clothes to their former glory.

"Coffee is almost done." Squalo offers. Luciano simply nods.

"I'll get you a pillow and a blanket."

"I appreciate it."

 

Passing through the hallway, Luciano sees the framed photo of his deceased wife, as he passes he silently talks to her - these private conversations of theirs that continue despite their circumstances.

I like it when you are kind, Luciano.

He had no place to go.

That's why I said you are kind.

He's a brat...

 

"Voi, Luciano!" Squalo calls him from the kitchen with that thundering voice of his. Enough to rip Luciano away from his musings, from the acoustic bubble he shares with his wife. Squalo's voice tears at the walls, reverberates and back again.

"What!?"

"Coffee's ready. It actually tastes good! What is this blend?" Squalo announces.

And Luciano thinks this day is strange. The rain makes it even stranger. 

He cannot see Squalo's face from where he is standing, but Luciano imagines now that he's less angry.


	2. Off Centre Of The Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He moves to lay on his side, the blanket burying him deeper into the bed. He closes his eyes and tries to fall back asleep. But a knock on his door makes this impossible and just as he pushes off the blanket, Squalo peers in from behind the panel.

Luciano wakes up to the muted sounds of footsteps outside his bedroom door. He reaches for his glasses and makes a quick check of the alarm clock resting on the nightstand. It's 5:45AM and his guest is already moving about. He tries not to think about it, if Squalo wants to leave before daybreak then that was fine. He tries to ignore the little nagging voice in his head, telling him to get up, check what's going on and at least see him off when he leaves. This inner debate is something he really does not appreciate, because Luciano does not want to care - he's exhausted this ability in the four years that he cared for his wife. Now, Luciano just let life pass him by, languidly and without much effort on his side. 

His world is sliced small enough and it moves around an even tighter circle. Barely enough space for a stranger. 

He moves to lay on his side, the blanket burying him deeper into the bed. He closes his eyes and tries to fall back asleep. But a knock on his door makes this impossible and just as he pushes off the blanket, Squalo peers in from behind the panel.

"I don't know what time you take your breakfast. I made fritata." Squalo says, the edge in his voice still there and his eyes sharp as always, observing the older man.

Luciano sits up and wears his glasses once more, he reaches up to trace ling fingers against his mouth before yawning. "I normally eat at the cafe across the street. But fritata sounds good." He speaks nonchalantly as if Squalo owes him this favor for letting him stay the night. He gets out of bed and gets his robe, on his way out, in time with Squalo turning around, Luciano notices that Squalo's changed into a new set of clothes.

They were Luciano's - dark jeans and an untucked crisp white shirt.

It's probably wrong to start an argument so early in the morning, but the older man does point out the obvious before they reach the breakfast table. "I believe those are mine."

Squalo turns around and gives Luciano a weird look - that seems to say - yes, these are yours and I am not going to bother denying it. "What's your point?"

"You really shouldn't wear clothes that aren't yours. At least not without permission."

Squalo makes a beeline for one of the chairs and settles in, pulling one long leg up so he can rest his chin on his knee. "The clothes you washed for me are too stuffy and I'll change into them later. When I leave." He feels as though Luciano needs to hear that last part. 

Luciano looks at him squarely and sits down. "I apologize for saying something absurd. Thank you for making breakfast." He is frowning but takes the initiative to take the first bite. The fritata isn't so bad. It's not as good as the one Furio makes but for an amateur, Squalo did a fine job. As he chews on his food, he glances at the younger man who is busy drinking coffee and portioning food on his plate. Luciano tries hard to push away the stray thought that Squalo looks exceptionally good even in his ordinary clothes. It's not so much a mysterious sensation for Luciano, he knows well what he is feeling and he does not like it. He clears his throat and drinks his coffee - made just right. Proof that Squalo made sure to remember how he takes it.

"What is it?" Squalo asks as he eats.

"Nothing. Just - half sugar and one cream?"

"That's how you take it right? I saw you last night."

"I know, I just didn't expect that you'd remember that's all."

"It's the least I can do."

Losing interest in his food for the time being, Squalo puts his fork down and leans back pushing hair behind his ears. "Are you always this grumpy? I understand its 10 to daylight but, really?"

"I'd like to ask you the same thing - why are you so persistent and angry?" Luciano looks straight at Squalo but he avoids eye contact for he knows they are dangerous things as dictated by the warning signs going off in his head since last night.

"I asked you first."

"This is who I am. Deal with it."

Squalo chuckles to himself, pulls the table napkin off his lap and stands up. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing. At least we are both being honest here. Whatever, I'll go change..."

Luciano does not answer and watches him leave the table and walk to the bathroom.

 

*

 

"Squalo how long are you going to stay in there?" Luciano knocks on the door and takes note of the time. He wants to be at the Casetta early today. He knocks again but it still goes unanswered.

 

*

 

In his mind, he is still here, the small bathroom and sunshine is steadily streaming from the tiny window just above the tub. In his mind, everything is normal. Squalo looks into the mirror, he smiles at himself - a toothy smile - examines his face. Everything looks okay and there is nothing wrong save the small lines that are creeping from the corners, the minuscule dents that go with time. Age, he's gotten old. Older. The vintage razor resting in a glass on Luciano's sink.

The bathroom smells like oxygen. Just like Luciano smells like air.

The glass topples over. The razor is gone. Luciano is finally able to open the door.

 

*

 

"What the hell are you doing?!" Luciano's face is angry and though he has more to say, Squalo takes him by surprise, an easy step to stop him from going through the door. They stop in that small space, not enough room for their hips not to meet. Squalo pushes, Luciano tries to pull away - confused. But Squalo grinds against him. But Luciano knows seduction, he's seen it so many times in the eyes and faces of Casetta's patrons. 

This is not seduction. 

Squalo exhales as though he is no longer capable of inhaling.

This is not seduction.

Squalo's hands reach for his hips to hold them tighter together. Luciano reacts and is about to backhand the younger man when he notices this: there's blood on his shirt. The blood is not his. Luciano pulls at Squalo's hands - the right palm is wounded.

"Of all the stupid things!" 

Squalo finally snaps out of it.

Luciano has enough sense to break away and grab Squalo by the shoulder, forcing him out of the bathroom and into the hallway. He tries to remember where he put the first aid kit.

 

*

 

They don't speak. Whatever kind of communication they tried to establish since last night abolished by what Luciano calls - Squalo's Little Taratella - episode. His heart may be heavy but his hands are light whil cleaning the younger man's wound.

"Luciano..."

"Look...I have a grandchild that visits me time and again. I'm old and my daughter depends on me for many things. I cannot tolerate anything, anyone that ruins that equilibrium." Luciano adjusts his glasses. 

"I understand. I'll go when you leave for work. I'm..."

"It's fine." The father in Luciano tells him that people are not unbreakable. Everyone breaks down at one point; if it's not sooner in their life then it's later. He closes his eyes and places Squalo's hand carefully on his lap.

"That's it. All done."

 

*

 

"You look like shit." Mukuro says, sputtering a bit of coffee when Luciano walks in.

"Don't ask. I swear I will tape your mouth shut if you say more."

It was a good thing that Claudio's off duty today. He would have fussed a lot and asked Luciano for details that he isn't really willing to share with anyone. He takes off his coat and goes to the lockers to change.

"What happened?" Teo walks in with a tray of dolce, he looks at Mukuro.

"No idea." Mukuro says honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this universe to be as light and fluffy as possible. Now, I realize that when you write about adult characters and try to capture their life experience, it's quite difficult to accomplish. Especially with Luciano and Squalo. I now put up a warning for drama and a bit of psychosis.


	3. Stars And Top Soil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franci's a good kid. It's something natural to him. He doesn't like to make a fuss, he likes being on his own and he feels genuinely happy making things easier for his parents. Content with his breakfast, Franci watches the beautiful Roman skies light up as the sun finally rises. He takes a drink of his milk and dips the bread into some honey - thinking that he is indeed lucky to have all this.

Luciano wakes up to the muted sound of his doorbell ringing, he's pretty sure that it's only 6 in the morning. Despite the protest of his tired body he gets up knowing who the early morning visitor is. Luciano pads to the front door in his grandfather robes and lets Franci in. The boy smiles at him and walks in showing him a bag of pastries he has in hand as well as a small bag that is most probaby filled with books and few toys. Something to keep the boy amused throughout the day. Franci already knows his place in his grandfather's house and he immediately walks to the dining table and begins to set up the plates and cutlery needed. 

"The usual for you, Im sure." Luciano says lightly trying to hide his amusement.

"Milk, honey and bread." Franci smiles, then leaving to walk towards the hallway and gently touches the picture of his grandmother. 

"I'm here again, Nana. I love you." 

Luciano allows himself to watch this scene and feels a tug at his heartstrings. Day in and day out, they greet his deceased wife. He does the same and knows that each time he greets her, he means it from the heart. But will this go on forever. Is this how he's supposed to live his life to the end? Is this how she'd want him to live? He finds it funny that this is the first time he's let himself think these thoughts, have them wander this far.

Maybe it's because less than 36 hours ago Squalo tried to take his life in Luciano's bathroom. Maybe it's because less than 36 hours ago he felt sexually aroused in god-knows-how-many-years. Maybe it's because less than 36 hours ago he was able to help someone who needed it - and that made all the difference.

"Nono...you don't want to eat?" Franci calls out to him from the kitchen.

"Go on ahead. I will just go down to Massimo's to buy another bottle of Milk, we're almost out."

 

Franci's a good kid. It's something natural to him. He doesn't like to make a fuss, he likes being on his own and he feels genuinely happy making things easier for his parents. Content with his breakfast, Franci watches the beautiful Roman skies light up as the sun finally rises. He takes a drink of his milk and dips the bread into some honey - thinking that he is indeed lucky to have all this. 

The doorbell sounds off and he thinks it strange that his grandfather would forget the keys to his own house. He walks to the door and calls out "Who is it?" then he pushes his ear to the panel, straining to hear the answer. "Is Luciano in?" The voice is deep, clear and 

demanding. "Nono is out on an errand. You can comeback another time?" Franci says.

"Are you his grandson? That kid in the blue jumper in that picture he has in the hall?"

"Are you Nono's friend?"

"I know your grandfather." 

Franci pondered and thought it better to open the door - just the latch - only to find that the man was pulling on it from the other side, as if telling Franci not to open in. "Keep it close. You don't know me and your grandfather's gonna be pissed if you opened it."

"What's your name? You know mine, I don't know yours..."

"Superbi Squalo...your grandfather helped me that's how I know him."

"Squalo? Like that person in the big posters in town?"

"That would be me, kid."

"Wow, you're famous. Though you have weird hair."

"I get that a lot." Squalo smiles a toothy smile and notes that he's actually having a conversation with Luciano's grandson. He leans on the door and rests against it. He's about to ask Franci not to tell Luciano he dropped by but he stops as soon as he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. It's Luciano and he's giving Squalo a mildly disapproving look.

"Franci. i'm gonna get going. Eat a good breakfast."

"I will. Thank you. I'll tell Nono you were here."

"Thanks."

 

Luciano walks ahead of Squalo, leading him to the open veranda located at the far end of his floor - it faces the sidestreet where few people pass by. He quietly turns around and sets the bag he's carrying on the floor.

"Why are you here? Why were you talking to my grandson?"

Squalo's taken aback by the fire in Luciano's eyes - such a protective grandfather - he found it rather endearing. "I meant no harm. I just wanted to give you this..." Squalo hands over a small box and inside is an expensive pilot's watch. Luciano examines the content and he gives the box back to Squalo.

"I can't accept something so expensive."

"But you helped me - we're even if you accept this..."

"We're even without the gift. I helped you because I wanted to. I don't need payment for that."

"You're so uptight."

"Squalo...my grandson means the world to me..."

"I didn't come here to hurt anyone..."

"...I know that. You are only keen on hurting yourself." Luciano says.

And Squalo looks at Luciano with a hurt expression. "I just wanted to say thank you. You didn't have to say something so hurtful."

"Then say 'thank you' without that ridiculous gift. Your money is wasted on me." Luciano means it and partly because he's making it clear to Squalo that he cannot be bought by such fancy gifts. "Seriously, you shouldn't treat people like they have a price tag on..." cut right in the middle of his tirade - Luciano could only breathe as Squalo leaned in to kiss him on the mouth.

They exchanged breath. Squalo's long, elegant fingers holding Luciano's face.

"Thank you." Squalo says when they finally part. "And I'm leaving now, you don't have to tell me to go away."

 

Luciano walks into his apartment silently - his usual proud expression replaced by something else. He felt uncertain and Squalo seems almost always successful in making feel things that he should not be feeling anymore. 

"Nono, what took you so long?"

"I had a bit of a conversation with Massimo."

"You missed your friend. Squalo. He came by. But I didn't open the door..."

"It's alright Franci. Thanks for telling me."

"You have a famous friend Nono..."

"So I've been told."

 

Franci rushes to the door hugging his bag close - Luciano's taking him to work and he doesn't want to make his grandfather late. He smiles up at him as he rushes out the door, earning him a light ruff in the hair from his grandfather. 

The trip to the Cassetta goes without much fan fare but as they pass the small alley leading to the backdoor, Franci notes that there's a large number of people gathering at the quad facing the retaurant. Luciano surmises that it's probably a movie shooting or a commercial photo shoot. Its not unusual in Roma after all. 

"Come on Franci, leave that be and get in."

"Okay, Nono."

 

Claudio comes into the waiter's lounge with a distressed look on his face. Mukuro is the first one on his side - being the self-confessed 

Claudio fan that he is - he places a gentle hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. "Calm down, what's going on? Why are you in a 

panic? Annoying patron?"

"No, Mukuro. It's just that some VIPs are coming in for lunch. I am supposed to serve them but I also forgot that I am supposed to meet Gabriella today to finalize settlement for our joint properties. I can't miss that, but I don't want to put our owner in a bad spot either."

"Oh...that does sound troublesome." Mukuro furrows his brows.

"I know...what should I do." Claudio sighs quietly and without realizing it, he rests his head on Mukuro's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Luciano barks and makes his presence felt as he's also in the lounge. "If you have to go then go. I can cover for you as well as that overgrown beansprout you are leaning on, so cut it out with the drama."

Mukuro takes no offense and as he turns to look at Claudio he sees that the man's clearly relieved to hear what Luciano said.

 

Mukuro's devious annoys Luciano to no end as the younger waiter walks past him to get more plated starters for the VIPs who had just settled in the private room. Luciano sees now that Squalo's included in the party that just walked in and is why Mukuro's giving him teasing smiles. Obviously the young waiter remembers how much trouble Squalo gave Luciano the first time he ate at the Cassetta.

"Just get more plates you brat." Luciano mutters under his breath.

Squalo sees Luciano but decides to ignore him, given that the older man preferred it that way.

Luciano sets a plate in front of Squalo but the older woman beside the model asks the waiter to remove it. "Soup and salad will be enough for him. Fresh food slows down the ageing process..." She says with as much disdain as she can muster. 

This is with total disregard that Squalo's sitting beside her. The other people at the table - comprising of photographers, stylists and clients pick up on what the woman said. The comments vary - from how expensive it is to photoshop lines, to how fast models seem to age these days. It is not Luciano's business so he stands quietly by the door letting the guests enjoy everything except their meals (that they have not touched, only poked or prodded as if the food were but props, a continuation of their photo shoot). Luciano tries not to look at Squalo who is made up exquisitely like a mannequin - he thinks that Squalo looks surreal especially when at work. He tries not to notice how irritated and uneasy Squalo looks and at one point their eyes meet.

Luciano feels a chill run over him as Squalo gives him the same vacant look - the one he had in his eyes that morning when he tried to take his life in Luciano's bathroom. It's a look that makes Squalo's eyeballs seem like broken glass. It made him seem hollow inside.

 

"Teo can you give me a slice of that grape cake you made..."

"Luciano shouldn't you be standing by the function room..."

"No one noticed I slipped out it's fine..."

"Still..."

"If you got me the slice I'm asking for then I can go back quickly...."

"Got it.."

 

Squalo's staring at his cooling coffee when a delicate slice of grape cake is served before him - the hand holding the plate - familiar and elegant. He looks up and meets Luciano's eyes - serious as ever but not at all unkind. "Compliments of the pastry chef." Luciano hopes 

that Squalo eats it, as it would be the only filling thing he'll have and it does not look like the photoshoot at the quad will end soon. Squalo needs sustenance.

"I'm sorry. Take that away. He can't have that." The same woman from before says.

"It's made from fresh grapes and almond flour." Luciano answers this time.

"It's bad for his figure. It's the only good thing going for him at this time..." says the woman.

Luciano looks at her and unflinchingly says "Then it should be no problem. He is a valued customer after all."

Squalo says nothing but he tries his best to hide a smile playing on his lips, happy that someone defended him, happy with the realization that Luciano's so kind to him. That he's probably the only person in this room who gives a shit about his welfare. He takes a big bite from the small cake - he's famished.

 

When Luciano gets home that night he flicks open the lights to his apartment, starts up the coffee maker and opens the door to the balcony. He's alone once more as his daughter picked up Franci at the Cassetta that afternoon. 

Luciano changes into jeans and comfortable sweater, dusts off the chair in the balcony, lights up a cigarette, walks in the kitchen to pick up the paper on the counter as well as the black coffee waiting in a checkered mug near the coffee maker. He settles in the balcony 

enjoying these little poisons under the cool, clear Roman night. The street below is quiet and only the laughter of some drunk teenagers in the distance can be heard.

Hours pass unnoticed and Luciano's at the last sip of his coffee when he hears obviousl foot falls from the downstairs. He leans over the balcony a bit and though unexpected he's not surprised to see Squalo. 

He is wearing an expensive-looking trench coat. His make up is still painted exquisitely on his face - telling Luciano that he's come right off from work. Squalo's hands are tucked innhis pockets and he standing still, looking up at the balcony, eyes meeting Luciano's intently. They do not exchange words, but they move at the same time: Squalo proceeding to head inside and up to Luciano's apartment. Luciano to head inside to open the door for Squalo.

 

As soon as the door opens, as soon as Squalo steps in Luciano's apartment - they kiss with the kind of passion reserved for people much younger than they are. Though Luciano holds on at the hems of dignity, trying not to lose himself in the moment, in Squalo. 

They set aside reason, set aside logic, throw caution outside the wide open doors of the balcony. A quiet urgency snakes between them: Luciano desperate for freedom. Squalo desperate for affection.

It's just you and me here...no one else's business... Squalo communicates.

I know. Luciano answers, pulling at the long dark trench coat - off of Squalo's perfect shoulders, to emphasize his point.


	4. The Thinner The Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The multiple missed calls and urgent messages don't register with Squalo, right now they are senseless numbers and letters.

"The bread here is good - though I shouldn't be eating bread." Squalo pops a small piece in his mouth and begins to chew thoughtfully, looking at the coffee mug, then the hand holding it, up the long arm before his eyes rest on his companion's shoulder. 

"Then don't eat it. Then again, I don't see the reason why you shouldn't eat." It's the grumpy reply that Luciano offers. Squalo imagines him rolling his eyes at that. The older man sets the coffee mug on the table and looks straight at Squalo. "Is this what you are killing yourself over? Keeping you weight down?". The remark amuses Squalo and in his head he thinks Luciano a modern day hero offering him some help or encouragement or whatever it is he can get. "I'll eat another slice, then." He pulls back and sits lazily in the small steel chair, enjoying Rome's morning light as showcased in Massimo's restaurant, just across Luciano's apartment.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever felt this comfortable, this happy, he does not even remember the last time he's woken up next to someone. Squalo's had his share of wild nights and even wilder endings but this, this was something else. He's not really decided if it's a good thing.

"Do you have to be at the the Caseta today?"

Luciano breaks away from the paper he's reading and looks at him.

"No. I covered for Claudio yesterday."

"Good. Finish up your coffee."

Squalo leaves it at that as he turns a bit predatory, his actions deliberate. There's nothing more he'd like to do now than to go back to Luciano's bedroom and while the hours away in both pleasure and nothingness. As the night before had been tiring and relaxing at the same time. They didn't talk, they didn't think. It was exactly what Squalo wanted and maybe it was also something that Luciano was looking for. 

 

Luciano's chest is warm - Squalo's back flush against the pale skin.

He let his head rest against the broad shoulder as he let Luciano touch and explore and rediscover everything he had forgotten when his wife left. Because that's what he told Squalo, that his wife had left him. The idiot woman. Squalo quickly forgets about that when his breath hitches and his hips buck towards the supple touch the older man is giving him. 

"Don't tease me to death."

"Thanks for the compliment." This, Luciano says with a hint of sarcasm.

It makes him grit his teeth and lose his patience and in that moment he pulls away and pushes Luciano down - modesty aside - Squalo is sure he can ride Luciano dry. The fact that he is sleeping with the older man twice is a compliment in itself. "Don't get so cocky old man." He grins but quickly backtracks when he sees hurt pass Luciano's face, shielded by his usual bored face defense. He moves slow and easy and lets Luciano feel every inch he's clamping down on. Squalo feels victorios at the small grunts his partner's giving him. It pushes him to use every bit of asset he's got from toungue to hair to teeth...

...so when they're both spent and panting and motionless, drenched in light sweat brought about by the afternoon heat, Squalo wonders to himself why he's trying so hard?

He moves from where he's laying down, his neck making a crick from having his head hanging from the edge of the bed - his legs a bit stiff from having been spread wide, and the dull ache, the dull ache in him is precisely the kind of pain he was looking for. Luciano's old but he's still a man. And Squalo rewards him with a kiss on the mouth - something that wakes Luciano up and makes him grimace. The younger man doesnt mind that and leaves him on the bed to stalk naked towards the shutters - flipping them open in order to let more light in. 

"I could do this all day."

"Let's not."

"I knew you'd say that..."

Tying his hair carelessly, pulling the silver strands up to a loose bun, Squalo watches Luciano try to put himself together again, make himself a bit more decent. Like putting on some clean clothes, tidying up the bed, fluffing the duvet. Like a school boy hiding evidence of being naughty.

"Worried that Franci will see? Want me to help you with that? I can send it to the cleaners."

"No it's not necessary..."

"Well, shit, don't look so guilty, Luciano. Not when you've gone this far. And you're old, no one will give you a spanking. Unless you want that sort of thing!"

"Quit it with the nonsense!"

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Squalo changes his tone, knowing that the stubborn Luciano will be twice as hard to understand if he took the angry approach. "We were enjoying ourselves a while ago. Then I woke you up and now this..."

"I feel like I shouldn't be doing this..."

"Doing what? Sleep with a man or having fun?"

And it's Luciano's silence that worries Squalo. Because one answer is vastly different from the other. It worries him because if Luciano worries about him being a man - then there's absolutely nothing that Squalo can do about it. "Your silence is telling me that you just made a mistake and I'm the stupid one who thought you could be trusted."

"I have a grand son and a daughter..."

"I know that! We've been through that!"

Fierce, glass eyes slice through Luciano's lithe form and Squalo curses himself for thinking that the older man still looked damn good standing still like that. He moves efficiently, gathering articles of clothing from the floor and putting them on quietly. Everything looked good on Squalo - even Luciano's old white shirts and slacks. But Luciano tries not to pay attention and busies himself in blocking out guilt whispering in his ears. He barely notices Squalo stop right in front of him, giving him a mad-hurt look.

"You're an idiot. If you enjoyed it then don't be sorry for it. You're making me feel like a mistake." And they both know that it's the last thing Squalo wants because Luciano's made it clear that he cares about the younger man. And has gone through great lengths to make him feel like he's worth something. Much, much more than how Squalo sees himself. "You, should have just left me alone. Fuck that rain. You should have just left me for dead!"

 

He isn't counting on Luciano's cool palm to press over his mouth in order to stop him from saying such horrible things. Luciano pulls at him and silences him with a glare. As if saying - shut up! Do you know what you're talking about?! . Squalo reckons that Luciano hates all mentions of death and dying, but right now, he does not have the time to wonder why. Not when they're so close like this and Squalo's still feverish from their last encounter. 

The younger man angrily pulls off Luciano's hand over his mouth, before glaring at him for the second time that day. It must have been a mistake because as soon as their eyes met, all reason left Squalo, and maybe Luciano too. It's okay for Luciano to undress him again, it's okay for Squalo to push at buttons that fire up the older man's Italian temper. It was like a ritual. It had already begun - and stopping it midway was madness - not when they both wanted everything out of each other. Passion is a strange thing after all, it does not know age or reason or time or space.

"Make it hurt." A gritty request from Squalo as he holds his breath.

There's nothing like this violation - it overwhelms him and the more he takes the more he starves. Squalo wonders if some part of him died, only because it's all about sensation and quick breaths, like the oxygen in that room has run out and this was all they could do to breathe.

 

"It's unusual for you to have dinner this late, Luciano. I was just about to close up shop." Massimo says with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Just give us the menu, we'll have it to go if it's too much of a bother." Luciano replies grumpily, not really reprimanding Squalo when he rests his chin on the bump of his shoulder, not shy at all in showing Massimo just how close he is to the other man. It earns him a smile from Massimo - as he's the type to not judge, the type that invites people to just be themselves when in the confines of his cafe. 

"No. No. You can eat here. I cannot blame you after all." He winks harmlessly at Squalo - who discreetly ignores him - but is forgiven anyway because he looks divine wearing Luciano's sweater with his long hair tied up in a careless ponytail. Squalo cleans up good and to hell with anyone who says otherwise.

"Thank you, Massimo." Squalo jests.

 

They decide to dine al fresco, with Luciano lighting a cigarette and quietly watching the street before them. Squalo doesn't mind the quiet this time, he toys with the lighter on the table until Luciano takes his hand in his. Luciano's still not looking at him, though. But the younger man takes great consolation in the way Luciano squeezes his hand, tickles the soft skin of his palm with a dry finger. Squalo doesn't mind this and pretends to distract himself with his mobile phone.

It is a picture of normality, of what couples should be. For tonight, it is their reality.

The multiple missed calls and urgent messages don't register with Squalo, right now they are senseless numbers and letters.

 

"Food's here." Massimo declares proudly; setting down a generous plate of spaghettini a la primavera topped with grilled chicken. 

"Thank you." Squalo will take on the carbs and calories - so what - he smiles and lets Luciano cut up the chicken for him.

"Do you need another plate?" Massimo asks.

Squalo smiles and takes in a forkful of pasta when Luciano answers for them -

"That won't be necessary."


End file.
